


An Absent Feather from Home

by WizzyPieHigh9



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-12-14 16:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizzyPieHigh9/pseuds/WizzyPieHigh9
Summary: Leaning against the damp, concrete wall, he could no longer feel the aches and tremors that have plagued his mind and body as of late, he could only feel the residing sting of the slap that had hit his face so long ago. Resisting the urge to cry, he removed his glove and brushed his hand against his cheek. Has he gone too far? Is this really necessary anymore? He couldn`t tell. In fact, everything was a bit fuzzy, and the surrounding focus of his mind started to fade to black. Wanting to shout for help, he instead mumbled to himself, "I guess itz ss'timez forz antzers nap.." And with that, Damian allowed his body to slide down the wall into a puddle of water, whilst he allowed his body the short reprieve he knew it did not deserve.NOT AN UPDATE OR ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!





	1. A Robin`s Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: I would like to personally say off the bat... Well No pun intended... that I am in no way affiliated with or represent DC in anyway, shape or form. It is simply just a personal interest and enjoyment of superheros, and things alike. I have been an avid reader of fan-fiction for awhile now, and finally have decided to get my feet wet and dive right into the full expanse of writing some fan-fiction myself. This is my first of, I hope, many writings to come. Please forgive any misuse of grammar, and please feel free to correct me in the comments. Also, If some story lines don`t fit in entirety with the DC universe, I apologize. I have not read nor watched everything, and some plot lines still don't make sense to me. Plus, I may change plot lines to fit in a story i`m writing. :D So, I hope you enjoy.

Straightening his tie, he allowed a gruff sound of annoyance.

He just couldn't understand why Father was forcing him to attend such an idiotic event with him every single month. None of his other so called 'brothers' were made to grace their appearance at galas anymore. Of course, he had personally expressed these thoughts in protest with Father and Pennyworth. Well, maybe express was not the correct terminology for such strife that had been used to convey his feelings over the matter. Nevertheless, as dictators they both had decided that he indeed needed to keep up his reputation as 'Damian Wayne', so therefore, he went resentfully.

Most particularly, he didn't want to attend a social gathering in which he was made to mind what Pennyworth described as, 'Peas and Q's'. Having to attend an event in which people plaster fake smiles and fawn atrociously over his person, made him especially nauseous and quite grim; and if he were not lying to himself, it made him also quite nervous. It's not that he minded such attention, it was the overwhelming cacophony that was minded. Growing up with Mother left him many isolated moments, and time for thought and quietness. His ears were still not accustomed to the surrounding jab of noise that galas and cities like Gotham provided. The deafening pandemonium of clamor leaves him utterly jittery at the end of an outing or event. This was the reason he had personally pushed for private tutoring or homeschooling. However, Father and Pennyworth both agreed, again, that 'Damian Wayne' needed a social outlet.

Rebuking the resounding principle of a 'social circle', he mumbled under his breath, "hmph.. friends.. Anyone that had the audacity and patience to be friends with me would just be after Father`s fame and wealth. "

Father told him earlier that day, that tonight he had to make a notably impressive appearance, particularly to the press. It was because of his, or rather what Father thought was a heinous crime upon the guests at the last such social function. Giving a small growl aloud, he remembered what specifically happened and pondered in reasoning to his former actions, 'Its not my fault that I had to jab someone. They were too close to my personal space, and they were obstinately loud and quite drunk. They were just fortunate that it was just a plastic fork.'

Giving one last look at his tie in the mirror he allowed a smirk to cross upon his face as he remembered Fathers bumbling excuse to a reporter he vaguely remembered being called Mr. Kent. Apparently, Father played on the fact that the man was wretchedly inebriated, and to persuade the media to bypass the whole affair said that it was simply the err thinking of an intoxicated man, thinking he had been stabbed. Thinking back to it.. the reporter didn't seem too convinced. Shrugging his shoulders to himself, "I guess not every one is persuaded by 'Mr. Wayne's' charm."

However, the journalist did seem to be persuaded by one of what Grayson would call, a batman glare. In the end all that man had written in his column of the newspaper was the charity fund being held that particular month and strange enough, Fathers gloomy-dark fashion style?

Sighing, he slowly made his way out of the room and began to walk the short hallway to the stairs. Padding his embarrassingly tiny feet down the hall, he could not help but marvel at how Pennyworth kept the floors so clean. Never had he ever seen Pennyworth clean the floors, and with the way everyone tracked mud, dirt and occasionally blood in the house, you would think that they had a Meta for a butler because of how spotless the Manor was.

Reaching the top of the stairs he grimaced, already he could hear the sound of at least a hundred people clamoring away. Groaning inwardly, he did not want to attend the gala tonight of all nights, he didn't want to admit it, but he was tired. He hadn't sleep well the night before, and had gone on patrol real late at night with his father the three before that. Preparing mentally, he gets ready to trek into the vast wilderness called 'socialization', however that is when loud chattering could be heard breaking through his deep train of thought from the opposite end of the hallway.

" I cant make it toni-" *cough*  
"Sir, I must insist that you will make a dazzling display at the gala tonight."

"Huh?," he mutters to himself, "that's weird, if that's Father and Pennyworth, shouldn't they already be downstairs greeting the early guests?"

Creeping closer to where the presumed sound emanated from, he couldn't help but wonder if they were practicing the method so often used by Drake for Wayne Corporate Meetings; which was being fashionably late, or when Drake just fell asleep and rushed in to only be late for a meeting.

Finding that they were in Father`s room, he decided to listen outside the double doors to the bedroom and curiously listen to the conversation that was currently raising in decibels.

* * *

Since knowing that some journalists can be rather obnoxious about wardrobe, he stood next to Bruce looking him over to see if he was presentable for such a social affair as one being held tonight. Seeing that Bruce's tie was skew-whiff he dutifully set about tying his former dependents tie properly, whilst working his gloved fingers meticulously and quickly as to make sure not to botch up the job. With words of confidence, and a cheeky wink, he said, "I`m sure sir that you will undoubtedly set a ravishing example for the young Master and might I say the mistresses with your new wardrobe."

"Yes, Alfred you made a wonderful color choice at the tailor. The suit looks impeccably fantastic. Also I`m sure that the ladies attending the fundraiser would be wholeheartedly impressed, maybe even Damian. Unfortunately though, as I have said, I cant make it toni-" *cough*

Quickly yanking the tie he had been so assiduously tying upwards to continue, "Sir, I must insist that you will make a dazzling display at the gala tonight. There's no need to fret, Bruce Wayne will have a good chinwag with some of his mates and by the end of the event will be definitely cream-crackered exhausted and ready for some well-deserved rest. It`s time for Bruce Wayne to do some important faffing for the press."

Continuing to primp and preen at Bruce`s suit he went on with what many would call 'laying it on thick'," Sir, I think that you will find that the clotted cream and scones will pair nicely with the beef wellington and basil cream cheese sandwiches. Afterwords you might find the ginger shortcake, the blueberry tart and-" Suddenly a pair hands rested on his hands and pulled them away gently.

Seeing Bruce Sigh, he watched him loosen his tie and cheekily smile, "Alfred... Can you convince me to attend the function tonight whilst not choking me?"

Reaching up, he began to quickly assess Bruce's surrounding neck for any impairments he might have caused with his insistence of the gala the Master should attend, "Oh dear, I am seriously sorry sir. I did not realize the severity of my strength. Do you have any pertaining injuries?"

Having his hands shooed away he watched as Bruce's eyes ogled for just a moments glance, "As you might say Alfred, Poppycock. Before you ask why I am hesitant attend, I must tell you that it is because I did not want to deal with Damian`s antics tonight. You know how he is when he stays cooped up for too long. I`m perturbed that he may unknowingly or purposely injure one of the guests tonight."

Raising his left eyebrow he began to differ with Bruce, "Sir, I`m sure you have made quite a clanger, If I do say so myself. I think the boy has proven to be-"

"No Alfred, he has not" Bruce cut him off in a steely-cut voice. "In fact, he has gotten worse. His grades are down in school,"

"Well, I don`t think that has anything to do wi-"

"That`s not the point." Bruce growled.

"Then may I ask what is, Sir?"

"He does not put forth his best effort in his academics, he does not listen to what I say on patrol. He still sneaks out at nights. He feels like he has the right to do whatever he pleases without understanding the consequences of his actions! In short terms, hes uncontrollable."

"I dare say Sir, I thought that the two of you put behind you, this, charade of sorts?"

"I thought so too."

Pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts he answered saying, "Even though I am only a butler and not a father Sir, I am a godfather, and I can only tell you that I think you are over-egging the pudding. You are making quite a big miff out of nothing. I cannot say that Damian`s behavior has been up to par as of late, but in all honesty when has it ever been? It is true that the young lad does have a destructive personality. But, as of late he has been doing better, as you can see and compare to his former antics, and now. However, you do what you think is best. I had so wished you could try to attend your own fundraiser." 

Bruce rubbed his hand over his left temple, "Fine, I guess it would be strange if Bruce Wayne didn't attend his own charity event. However, Help me keep an eye on him. No wait, help me keep ALL eyes on him. Never no what kind of disturbances that boy can cause. He has already done enough to strain the reputation of the Wayne name."

Discreetly coughing into the sleeve of his shirt he could not help but say, "Sir, you haven't done much better at keeping the Wayne name reputable yourself. You have done good, but, not perfect. I don't believe individuals will judge your family's company on you, or my godson. I believe they will only judge your company on your actions within the personal functions of your company. Now, Leg it. You are doddering along, and you don't need to be any more as they call, 'fashionably late'. "

As watching Master Bruce walk out of his room I hear a snide comment of upmost displeasure, and with that he also gave an irritable gruff back and began his way downstairs to serve the arriving guests.

* * *

Damian quickly scurried down the stairs as he heard his fathers footsteps approaching the side of the door. He had to move so fast that he hadn't had the time to truly contemplate what conversation took place...

* * *

Scowling internally he looked at the face of his wrist watch, the gala had been going on for three hours now, and was showing no sign of letting up any time soon. Scrubbing his hand over the side of his face he couldn't help but feel tired of meeting person after person.

Whilst Yawning, the thought of how proud Father would be popped into his mind, he had been on his best behavior as of yet. Speaking of which, he could see Father standing in the swarm of people, with of course a young lady encasing her arm around his. "tt," he had muttered, "that's disgusting." 

When greeting everyone, he did it so cordially, and didn't even jab, yell, or hit anyone as of tonight. However, the temptation came very close when people in general began to impede on his personal bubble. Does nobody understand a thing called, 'personal space'?

Now that the surrounding flock of people had stopped flocking about him, he found himself some downtime to think about the conversation that Father and Pennyworth had behind his back earlier that evening. Quickly, he found himself becoming quite sad, and a combination of both hurt and angry. 'Am I that much of a burden to Father? I remember hearing him say to Alfred that he didn't want to deal with me tonight. I'm not THAT much trouble, and I do try and follow Father's word on patrol, however situations do arise that simply can't be helped. I can't believe that Father thinks I still sneak out, THAT WAS ONE TIME last month...' Oops, he had just sent an intimidating glare at someone who was approaching him. 'Sorry about that', he voiced out in his mind. 'Now where was I, oh yes, schooling. That was the previous point Father had made.' Rolling his eyes, he couldn't help but mumble under his breath, "If peers at school would stop gawking at me, maybe I wouldn't have such misfortune focusing on work."

Yawning again, he decided to begin to look around for Father, Maybe he could ask if he could retire for the evening.

Thirty minutes were spent searching for Father, but all he had ever ran into was herds of people, and reporters that wanted him to stop and answer their dumb questions. Not wanting to leave the function without permission, he decided to duck under a table for a short pause from the bumbling activity around the Manor.

Sitting under the pristine table all he could hear was the semi-soothing lull of the noisy crowd. While laying down, he told himself that pretty soon he needed to get up from under the table and begin his search for Father again. However, as time kept rolling, his limbs became heavier and his eyes eventually shut and soon enough he fell asleep in a curled ball underneath the buffet table.

* * *

Everything had been going smoothly up to the point until questions came pouring in as to the whereabouts's of Damian. What was supposed to be an enjoyable night, he now spent looking for a missing child. Only one thought kept repeating in his head and that was that, he knew the boy was up to something and he had to be found before that 'something', whatever it was, happened.

Spending the next hour zig-zagging through the multitudes of people, searching for Damian, he was alas nowhere to be found. At one point, he had even excused himself from the always-questioning press and guests to check upstairs. Nonetheless, Damian was no where to be found upstairs either. Grumbling he thought, 'That boy needs to spend some time in the spotlight as Damian Wayne. I hope this isn't another stabbing incident, like he or anyone for that matter need that right now.'

As the night trudged on there was still no sign of Damian and now Bruce began to become overwhelmingly concerned that his child had just decided to skip town and hide until the party was over. 'Didn't he understand how important it was to diminish his formidable personality in front of the press and to act like a child?' he screamed in his mind.

Deciding to continue on with the gala, he had resentfully told Alfred to kept an eye out, and let himself go on with mingling to ensure a good story in the paper.

Pushing past the last two hours he unfortunately underestimated how much he had drank in nervousness of looking for Damian, and now was well on his way to becoming quite tipsy. Fortunately however, the guests were starting to leave since the function clocked out at twelve. 

Waving goodbye to many of the guests he could begin to feel the slurry effects from the alcohol, 'Great, just keep your composure just a lil longer then you can collapse in bed Bruce. Just a lil longer,..'

* * *

He found himself waking up to an angry slurred voice calling his name, "DAMIANssss"

Shooting straight up he banged his head on what he realized was the underside of the table. While briefly thinking to himself, the idea where he was sunk in, "Oh shoot.. I'm still under the table." At that moment it felt like a million thoughts were rapidly racing through his mind, 'How long had I been asleep, what time was it, and where was all the racketing noise?'

Listening intently through the tablecloth, he could hear unmistakably loud footsteps approaching the buffet table he had hidden beneath. Scratching his head, 'Those sound like Father's footsteps, hmmm, however, they sound a bit.. off, almost clumsy like. But that's not possible, Father was always dignified, just like Alfred.' 

The clicking of shoes hitting the tile of the Manor floor were indeed getting louder, 'I guess Father, or who ever it is, heard the bang when I had hit my head...' He abruptly wished that Grayson were here, 'he would know what to do.'

Whether it was to defend himself against a plausible intruder, or face the penalty's of his inexcusable actions, he decided it was best to, as they call, 'face the music'. So, nervously, he crawled from underneath the spot where he was formerly resting to surprisingly be dragged the rest of the way by his collar into a standing position to ultimately be in front of Father.

'Ouch,' he thought to himself, 'that was a bit rough, and unexpected' Brushing his suit off, he couldn't help but stare at Fathers haggard face and bloodshot eyes. It was then decided in his mind that it was best to tell the whole embarrassing truth, "Father, I can expl-"

*SLAP*

'what,' Staring in awe, he couldn't help but bring his hand up to the point in which he had been stingily slapped. Pulling the offended hand away, he stared indignantly into Fathers eyes, "Fath-"

*SLAP*

"Thaz whutz you gets furz runnizings awaz youz idoitical boy,.."

"Father, I can explain, I was just-"

*SLAP*

"One more word outz omfz youz, and you are suspensdeds frommms ever being da batmez robens agzgain, you hear mez."

He didn't know what to say, all that his body could do was freeze and think. 'Why was Father acting so funny,' rubbing the side of his cheek, he decidedly observed Fathers difficulty to speak and stand, 'he surely cant be...' Sniffing inconspicuously, he could smell the lingering scent on his father's body, 'he was. Father was inebriated.'

He hadn't had to deal with this type of problem since his time at the league. Mother, would get purposely drunk after he failed a test so that she could unknowingly vent her angry towards him. Shivering at such a memory, he decided to try a method that seemed to work on Mother some of the time, sympathy. So, he carefully thought about his next words, "Father, I believe you to be highly intoxicated, maybe you should-"

*SLAP*

This time the slap was hard enough to bring burning tears to my eyes, but he hurriedly brushed them away. 'So much for sympathy...'

Whilst being grabbed by his collar and yanked forward, he listened to Fathers words while breathing in the scent of Fathers heavily alcohol-tainted breath, "Damein, youz dunz telz your fader wuhtz to do, andz furdermorez you dunz tellz mez whutz youz thinks dats I iz." Watching him stumble I listen to his incoherant ramblings, "Alzo, whilzems ats it, You BOY are an abzsalutes desgrace toz da Waynes names. If youz cantz learns to um,... uh.. If youz cantz um learns to be *hic* dameinz, then you can knots be robens. Youz fales at evreethiga, yous rz ruenizing the reputatshun ofs das Waynes. Youz," All of a sudden a hand gently caressed his fathers hand pulling him away from where they are attached to his clothing.

"Bruce, I think its wise to step away from the boy. From what I understand it has been a zonking evening and," Pennyworth talking even more heavily now said, "the boys right you are absolutely trollied. It's time for you to head up to bed. Bruce Wayne can sort this out tomorrow if he wishes to do so." And with that, he watched as Pennyworth slung his fathers arm over his shoulders and helped him shuffle out of the room.

Looking down at the floor in absolute terror, he couldn't help but be surprised when Pennyworth said over Fathers shoulder, "Oh, and my dear boy. Please head off to bed as well, your Father is much to wally to understand what he was saying. I'm sure that your Father will have a proper talking to you tomorrow."

And with that he lumbered himself up the stairs and got into bed without taking his formal wear off and resisted the urge to cry himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm just posting this to say that I'm going to be re-writing the previous chapter and rewriting the structure of the story-....so, it may not be updated for a while...SOORRRy.. but it will be updated at some point in the future... ❤

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the Resources I used for Story:  
https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/british-phrases-english-language-sayings-britain-england-uk-different-a8138046.html
> 
> https://www.thesaurus.com/
> 
> I also recently got a Tumblr so,... if you would like to follow it, here is the link:  
https://wizzypiehigh9.tumblr.com/


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